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Archive for the ‘Seriously Silly’ Category

[Note: My best friend is coming to visit me here in the Blew Gas State, and we were discussing what kinds of uniquely Kentucky things we might do and see during her stay: a tour of a bourbon distillery, an afternoon at the Horse Park, a stop at Henry Clay’s house, perhaps even a journey to the local mall to watch how Southerners genteelly elbow one another at a sale. We also discussed renting some movies and having a film festival featuring the works of Lexington native George Clooney. Oddly, I neglected to mention the Creation Museum, even though it’s less than 90 miles away, and one of the reasons I’m proud to be a Jeezuckian. My wife and I keep talking about what a hoot it would be to spend some time surrounded by Christians oohing and ahhing at nonsense, but we’ve yet to make the trip; my friend’s visit might be just the push we need to get off our asses and go mingle with our dinosaur-riding ancestors. Or perhaps we could pass a few pleasant hours at the Creationist Art Gallery, described below in this revised old post.]

Everyone knows about the Creation Museum of Faux Science, which celebrated its third anniversary recently. Less well publicized, however, is its sister house of learning, the Creationist Art Gallery. Fortunately, though, I have a copy of the gallery’s catalog, and I can assure you that the displays there demonstrate the same kind of careful attention to scientific and historical truth as the ones at the more well-known venue. Below, I’ve reproduced twelve pages from the catalog, just to give you an idea of the high quality of the exhibits. (Note: I’ve taken the liberty of correcting the many spelling, grammatical, and punctuation errors in the published text. The content, however, is reproduced verbatim.)

The ancient Egyptians had many weird beliefs, unlike modern-day Evangelical Christians. Here, their god of Evolution is depicted with the head of a lying jackal and the body of Tom Cruise. The long staff-like object in his left hand is known as a Dennett, the symbol for a dangerous idea. Notice, however, that his right hand grasps an Egyptian cross, representing the sacrifice of our Lord. Art historians believe that the anonymous Egyptian sculptor was attempting to depict a “compromise” between science and Christianity, an endeavor we now know to be impossible.

Edgar Degas: Degenerate Scientists (1876)

Like most enlightened persons of his day, Degas realized that the pursuit of science, at the expense of religion, leads one into a life of immorality. In this frightening portrait of two evolutionists, Degas perfectly captures the spiritual emptiness of his subjects.

John Trumbull: The Beginnings of a Christian Nation (1817)

This famous painting shows the Continental Congress of 1776, as the draft of the Declaration of Independence is being presented. The tall red-headed Christian in the middle is Thomas Jefferson, flanked by Christian John Adams on his right, Christian Benjamin Franklin on his left, and a couple of Christian guys you never heard of. If you look closely at all the faces, you’ll notice that everyone present is contemplating God.

Francisco Goya: Darwin Eating His Child (1821-23)

It’s a little-known fact, fortunately documented for posterity by Goya, that Charles Darwin once ate one of his children. Darwin and the child were both completely undressed at the time.

Edvard Munch: Don’t Let This Happen to Your Kid! (1893)

In the early 1890s, Munch visited a number of high school biology classes in Norway. He was much moved by the reactions of students while they were being taught evolutionary theory. In this painting, the artist captures perfectly the emotions of one of the children, who has just heard the evil propaganda that his parents were monkeys. It is not known for sure whether the boy jumped over the bridge or not, but wouldn’t you?

Vincent Van Gogh: Self-Portrait with Bandaged Ear (1889)

A few days before painting this masterpiece, Van Gogh recorded in his journal: Today, I attended a lecture on the origin of species. I couldn’t stand what I was hearing. I never want to have to listen to that kind of nonsense again! Art historians agree that the artist cut off his ear a few minutes after lowering his pen. While the curators of the Creationist Art Gallery do not necessarily condone Van Gogh’s extreme response, we do applaud his faith, and are comforted by the knowledge that his ear was reattached when he arrived in heaven.

Here we see a quartet of secularists despoiling the lovely Kentucky landscape with their atheistic food and ideas. The particular spot they’ve chosen is on a mountaintop scheduled to be removed to make way for some glorious Christian coal-mining. In the background, a member of the eternally damned party is examining a dinosaur dropping, while nearby, unbeknownst to her, is a remnant of Noah’s ark. If you look very closely, you may notice that one of the women is naked! (Note: For a nominal fee, smelling salts are available to revive swooning ladies.)

Auguste Rodin: Nude Supreme Court Justice (1880)

As everyone knows, Rodin predicted — and deplored — the Roe v. Wade opinion nearly 100 years before it was handed down by the Supreme Court. In this famous work, the artist depicts an unidentified Supreme Court Justice (many art historians believe that it’s Antonin Scalia), as he struggles to come up with a rationale for overturning legal precedent. Although this sculpture is not directly related to creationism, we thought you should see it before signing the petition in the gift shop.

Jacques Louis David: Dover, December 2005 (2006)

The figure in the center of the canvas is the world’s most respected scientist and pre-eminent Intelligent Design proponent, Michael Behe. The agonized disciples surrounding him are various upstanding Christian members of the Dover, Pennsylvania School Board. After a ridiculously biased and completely unscientific decision rendered by United States District Judge John E. Jones III, the citizens of Dover have been forbidden to teach Creationism in their public schools. In this painting, however, the artist shows Behe pointing upward at Christ in Heaven, promising his faithful followers that God will soon reveal his Truth to all. The scroll on the ground near the foot of the bed is an original copy of Of Pandas and People. Off to the left, you might be able to spot a group of villainous biologists, chuckling in the background as they climb the stairs.

Pablo Picasso: Woman Without Intelligent Design (1937)

For Picasso, who loved the female form, it was a sin of the highest magnitude to deny that woman had been created expressly for man’s pleasure by God. Over the course of his long life, the artist depicted, over and over again, his nightmarish visions of what women would look like if the Divine Intelligence had not been involved in their design. The subject of the painting is crying because she happened to catch a glimpse, in a heathen-crafted mirror, of what her non-created self would look like. Art historians believe that the model for this particular portrait was Picasso’s ninth-grade science teacher.

Salvador Dali: Nothing Gets Made by Accident (1931)

It should be evident to even the smallest child that someone created those watches in the painting. Therefore, God must have made the world, although it’s not quite as droopy as the items shown. If you add up the times on the faces of the watches, you’ll easily see that they total 6,000 years — the exact age of the universe!

G. Beck: Huge-Penised Flying Devil Monkey (2010)

The artist created this work to show the danger of Darwinism. In this beautifully Photoshopped illustration, noted scholar Beck depicts the Satanic creature from whom evil-utionists would like to teach your children that they’re descended. Is this the kind of socialist propaganda you want your sons and daughters to learn?

Since I earn absolutely no money from this site, I’m forced to take paying work now and again to keep myself in Chocolate Cheerios. Lately, in my non-blogging life, I’ve been writing a series of math textbooks for middle schoolers. Sometimes my mind wanders, though. That’s probably why the following problems were all rejected by my editors.

Question 1.: A newspaper has three sections. Each section contains 14 pages. The newspaper devotes 8 pages to items related to college basketball, 6 pages to articles about bourbon and/or horses, 5 pages to gossip about famous entertainers who were born in the state, and 7 pages to columns about how religion makes its readers feel good. How many pages are devoted to news?Answer: 1½ pages. The other 14½ pages are filled with happy-face stories aimed at attracting tourists.

Question 2.: The population of the United States is roughly 310,000,000. According to recent statistics, nearly 12% of Americans are non-theists. About how many Americans practice no religion?Answer: Zero, because everyone knows that not practicing a religion is a religion.

Question 3.: The Declaration of Independence was signed by 56 men. If 17/28 of them called themselves Christians, how many of them believed that they were creating a Christian nation?Answer: Only two, Glenn Beck and Michele Bachmann. (Bachmann dressed as a man so she could add her name to the list, but then she remembered that no one had taught her how to write, because she was “just a woman.” So she traced over Glenn Beck’s signature. That’s why his name appears twice on the document.)

Question 4.: You have been asked to make a lime Jell-O mold for your church picnic. To make enough Jell-O mold for 6 hungry people to eat, you need one box of Jell-O, one can of crushed pineapple, and one can of tuna. If you make enough Jell-O mold for 112 people, how many of them will actually eat some?Answer: Only the pastor, who’s trying to get you to will your pineapple and tuna stocks to the church.

Question 5.: If you follow the correct order of operations, what should you do first when asked to solve the following: (13 – 3)3 ÷ 5 + 4 x 9 – 7 =?Answer: Pray to Jesus. If he doesn’t give you the answer, you’ll know you’re going to hell, where it’s all math, all the time. Don’t you wish you’d spent July and August studying arithmetic instead of attending four sessions of Vacation Bible School?

Question 6.: According to the bible, Noah’s Ark was 300 cubits long, 50 cubits wide, and 45 cubits high. A biblical cubit = approximately 1.5 feet. If the ark was filled to capacity with animals on the morning of the first day, and it rained for 40 days, how many animals in total were eaten by each Tyrannosaurus Rex on board?Answer: Trick question. Tyrannosaurus Rex did not eat animals. It ate only Entenmann’s Chocolate Donuts. So the answer is 1, the male aardvark, because it was trying to hoard all the sweets.

Question 7.: The Troubled Asset Relief Program is giving away $700 billion to companies that are too big to fail. An additional gazillion dollars has been set aside for companies that could fail, but won’t, because they have friends in Congress. If all that money is invested in the American economy, how much will the average worker get?Answer: Approximately $9.42 in tax rebates, give or take $9.42, spread over the next 20 years.

Question 8.: What kind of polygon has exactly three sides?Answer: The holy trinity, but it actually has only one side comprising three hypostases (or, in English, hypotenuses).

Question 9.: There are 25 Fundamentalist Christians in a middle school math class. On a recent test, the students’ results were plotted on a grid, and the line approached a bell-shaped curve. Three students were shown to have earned 90% or better on the test. About how many students failed the test?Answer: All 25. The school administrators just put dots at random on the grid. They claimed that they were guided by the hand of their god, who was actually trying to get them to draw an Entenmann’s Chocolate Donut.

Question 10.: Using the biblical equivalent of 3 for pi, what’s the area of a circle with a radius 3 inches long.Answer: Approximately 28.27 square inches. The actual area doesn’t change just because you use a wrong number from the bible.

I’ve been indisposed for a while (see my next post). So I’m late acknowledging Independence Day, in celebration of which a very good friend of mine sent out this gallery of presidents, listed in order from best to worst. The scientifically derived rankings are explained in great journalistic detail by this article.

That list must be exactly right, because (1) the specific criteria are irrefutable; (2) of the 238 scholars mentioned, there’s not a single person whose name I could argue with; and (3) Siena College is well known as one of the world’s greatest institutions of learning. I’m a little surprised that they didn’t bump everyone down a place to make room for Jesus Christ at the top.

I decided it might be interesting if I did my own ranking, using my own set of scrupulously arrived at criteria. It wouldn’t be fair to my readers to ask them to wade through the entire set of names, but here are a few excerpts:

Unlike Siena College, I haven’t included either Barack Obama (because he has served only about 18 months so far) and Sarah Palin (who hasn’t yet been elected). I also didn’t rank Franklin Pierce and James Buchanan, because I couldn’t decide which one should be 32nd and which 33rd. Sorry.

When I told my wife that PZ Myers had worked his heathen magic on the Readers’ Choice ballot, she immediately said, “If you win, I hope you’re not going to let the paper interview you.”

Her concern is not just vague, out-of-the-blue nervousness. She knows a little something about writers. During the many years we’ve been together, I’ve spent untold hours interviewing folks for stories in both newspapers and magazines.

Usually, I’m respectful of my subjects. But believe me, if I choose to do so, I know how to make anyone sound like a jerk.

The truth is: all humans sound like jerks when we’re having normal conversations. We stammer, we add empty interjections, and we repeat ourselves. We stop to collect our thoughts and helplessly watch them leaving on a train that chugs out of our head and gets lost. We make odd gestures and ridiculous faces. We mispronounce words, misuse phrases, and accidentally say one thing when we mean something else entirely. We scratch our nose, our ear, our armpit. We fart or belch or sneeze or hiccup or snicker inappropriately.

Normally, when we talk to one another, those kinds of unimportant tics of communication become essentially invisible and inaudible. We don’t notice them in our relatives, friends, and acquaintances unless the idiosyncracies are really, really, really annoying.

A good print interviewer who wants to be fair to his subject leaves all that garbage off the page. Often, in fact, a writer will correct the interviewee’s most egregious gaffes in grammar or syntax. A particularly kind journalist might even phone a subject after the fact, and give the person a chance to correct an error that was clearly just an oral typo: “Did you actually mean to say that Charles Dickens wrote The Voyage of the Beagle?”

On the other hand, if an interviewer wants to present his source in a bad light, he can always find a way to do it.

For example: Let’s say that I’m a reporter interviewing some guy we’ll call Larry Wallberg. At the beginning of the interview, I ask him a few “softball” questions, trivial things about his everyday likes and dislikes. Maybe I feel that he needs to be warmed up, or set at ease. I might want to get to know him a little before I turn to the meaty questions, to see how he expresses himself, to listen to his speech patterns. If I’m fair and unbiased, the paragraph I write about this interchange might look like:

Wallberg always starts his day with packaged cereal. “I’ve been doing that since I was a boy,” he says. He loves the new Chocolate Cheerios because “they’re like a cross between cereal and, frankly, cookies.” On the other hand, he adds with a chuckle, “I avoid Cap’n Crunch with Crunchberries because it’s a little too sweet even for me.”

Pretty innocuous, right? But what if I take an instant dislike to my source, and I feel like being a prick? There are sooooo many ways I could make that poor guy look like a complete asshole. Shall I paint him as an undecided semi-literate? Or shall I hint that he’s probably lying? How about making him look like an automaton prig? Or a grown-up child? Or a pretentious fool who’s capable of thinking only about the most mundane subjects?

Wallberg says he always starts his day with “um … packaged … y’know … cereal. I’ve been doing that since … I dunno … since I was … what? … let’s just say, since I was a kid.” He mentions that he loves the new chocolate “Cheetos … no, I mean Cheerios,” which remind him of “a cross between cereal and … Christ, what? … let’s just say, between cereal and … I guess they’re kind of like cookies, really.” He says he avoids “Cap’n Crunch with … what the hell do they call those things? … dingleberries? … I’m kidding … oh, yeah, crunchberries. Crunchberries, that’s them. It’s a little too f**king sweet … even for … hey, even for me. No sh*t.”

When asked how he starts a typical day, Wallberg pauses to collect his thoughts, shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and looks at the selection of boxes marching in helter-skelter formation on top of his refrigerator. Beads of perspiration collect on his brow. Finally, he blurts out, “I always start my day with packaged cereal.” Staring longingly at the front box, which is clearly marked “Cap’n Crunch with Crunchberries,” Wallberg claims, “I love the new Chocolate Cheerios.” So why is he caught stealing yet another glance at the cereal that seemingly has pride of place in the parade? As if anticipating the question, the obese Wallberg adds, “I avoid Cap’n Crunch with Crunchberries because they’re too fricken sweet.” Even for him? “No lie,” he says, nodding a bit too vociferously.

Mr. Wallberg never varies his rigid morning routine, which — according to him — he has been performing since he was a child. “I always start my day with a bowl of cereal,” he intones, as if the very thought of doing otherwise would upset the cosmos. These days, the cross (his word) he has to bear is the new Chocolate Cheerios. “Frankly, they’re like cookies,” he says, making a face of self-disappointment. Mr. Wallberg may not enjoy his current daily regimen, but he’s unyielding in keeping to it. So he scrupulously avoids other dry breakfasts like Cap’n Crunch with Crunchberries, the very idea of which elicits an expletive from him.

Larry always starts his day just as every young kid would, with a heaping bowl of highly processed cereal. His current favorite he says, grinning goofily but endearingly from ear to ear as he scratches them with abandon, is the new Chocolate Cheerios. It reminds him partly of [big smile here] “cookies.” But even Larry has limits when it comes to his obvious sugarmania. Making a mock-nauseated face that wouldn’t look out of place on Beaver Cleaver, he says that he avoids Cap’n Crunch “with those things” [Note: Larry means Crunchberries], because that particular breakfast treat is “a little too [schoolyard term] sweet” — even for him [if his giddy hiccups are any indication]!

Mmmm. “Chalk. Lit.” A small dribble of saliva helps carry those two syllables out of the mouth of Mr. Larry Wallberg, and down the side of his chin. Listen carefully as you watch the flow, because Mr. Larry Wallberg is speaking about his creed, the cult of the sweetened breakfast, a religion he has practiced since he was a boy. Rhymes with “oy.” Chalk. Lit. Cheeeeeee. Ree-ohs. Kinda like cereal, kinda like Christ, kinda like cookies. No Crunchberries for him, no way! They don’t hit exactly the right spot on his tongue. No, it’s gotta be Chalk. Lit. Cheeeeeee. Ree-ohs.

Yesterday, Ben Schott invited readers of his feature in The New York Times to invent new eponymous “laws.” Here’s his post.

Of course, I couldn’t resist. I’d already created Wallberg’s Law, named after myself. I immediately typed that one in, and — why not? — linked back to this blog.

But Schott really seemed to want readers to use the names of well-known fictional characters, historical figures, and present-day newsmakers. Therefore, I came up with the following. (Note: Since originally posting these at “Schott’s Vocab,” I’ve revised one or two for maximum hilarity.)

[Note: Some of the friendlier atheist blogs run occasional features in which a guest writer gives long-winded answers to correspondents who write to him for solutions to their personal problems. Unlike Dr. Philistine, I’m not qualified to give advice at such length. (For example, my answer to Jessica would have been: “Duh. Send your kid to public school.”) But I do get my share of email inquiries, and I hate to let those notes go unanswered. So, today’s column will be devoted to some of the thousands of uninteresting queries I receive.]

Dear Athiest,

I have a bad tooth aich. I prayed about it but God dont seem to do nothin to help. Its gotten sos I cant eat any food harder than mush with out yellin ouch or even somethin worse that sounds like Im takin His name in my veins. Cold yogert feels real good in my mouth but I hate the taste of it unless its coffee which it aint cause my wife dont buy any kinds but mixed beeries and aprilcut which I both hate. I also prayed about her shoppin so maybe the Lord woud make her pick up a better flayver, but my wife just says God heps those who hep theyselves. But hes not heppin me none! So what shoud I do?

Yours in Christ,

I.M.N. Payne

I.M.N.:

I suggest you see a dentist. You can pay him to buy whatever kind of yogurt you like.

Deer Athiest,

I was thinking the other day that John must of got it wrong when he said Jesus wept in chapter 11 verse 35, that’s the shortest verse in the hole Bible so I got it mammarized. Jesus could’nt of wept because gods do’nt cry, not even my husband crys and hes no god bulleave me! And over some guy named Lazris dieing? Jesus don’t cry at all when other people die even preachers and such. So do you think maybe John got it wrong? Floyd thinks yes because he says that Jesus woulda just manned up insted of balling like some girl. And what kinda name is Lazris I never knew no body with no name like that? How could Jesus wept about some one with such a wierd name I never heard of? Also, how come your an athiest when the Bible is the Holy Word of God?

Your freind,

Jess Asken

Jess:

Lazarus (note the correct spelling) was Jesus’s good friend. If you’ll read the next few verses (Yes, I know they have a lot of words, but perhaps you and Floyd could get through them if you go slowly), you’ll find that Christ prayed really hard and — presto! — Lazarus came back from the dead. I agree that preachers don’t usually rise up after they die, but that’s probably because they’re not on Jesus’s list of friends. I also agree that Lazarus is a weird name. I’m an atheist because I think the bible is stupid.

Deere Athiest,

There IS a hell and YOUR going their!!!! But their’s STILL TIME. Except the SAVOR JESUS CRHIST!!!!! Just remember that disapline is the key. GOD is your captain, your judge and, your jury. ‘The Lord will open the heavens, the store house of his bounty” !!!! (Duetoromony 28-1:12) In case your wandering, thats the Bibles’ way of saying He will give you good stuff from his store in the sky. And it will be FREE!!!! Otherwhys, ten days half rations. Keel haul this athiest!

Sin surly,

Christian Fletcher

Christian:

I don’t need any good stuff from the lord. I have too much stuff already. Perhaps he could figure out a way to ship it to the world’s most impoverished countries. By the way, your name made me chuckle because my best friend in third grade was a kid named Fletcher Jew.

der athiest,

heres what i dont under stand about you athiest poeple. you say theres no god but every body else says there is. can you prove theres no god? NO! so every body else must be right!

yours truely,

Billy Bob Aristotle

Billy Bob:

I’m glad you cleared that up for me.

Dere Athiest,

So let me get this strait. You don’t beleive that God causes all those horrorcanes an twizzlers an earthquacks an fluds an sudokus an oil spills. Am I rite? So who then? You?

Signed,

Sunny Daze

Sunny:

Aw, you caught me. I confess: I made all that bad weather. But please don’t hold me responsible for mosquitoes, tubercle bacilli, and nauseatingly cute kittens.

Dare Athiest,

If there ain’t no God, then why should we be good. You could just as well rape and murder and steel and masterbate and be a homo and kill babies and turn commie and say bad words and masterbate and cheat on your wife and drink and dance and smoke and masterbate. So that’s why I believe in God. Otherwise I might do those things except be a homo which I ain’t cause Bubba and I was ony fooling around and it didn’t mean nothing. And I’d probly never be no commie neither because I’d rather be an American than one a them cuckoo ratchas from Porta Rico or New Mexico or France. But otherwise I might. So what’s your excuse?

Love (but NOT in that way),

Sue (yeah that’s my name you wanna make something of it?) Macho

Sue:

Were you aware that Bubba’s from France? You can prove it by offering him some Velveeta. If he turns it down, you’ll know for sure.

Dir Athiest,

I make you a bet. You can chose to bleeve in God or not. If you do you win when you die cuz you go to heven. If you dont you lose cuz Ill kill you. So wich do you pick?

Watch Your Ass,

Sal Vation

Sal:

Could you throw in an all-expenses paid “cruise to nowhere” with the first option?

Dire Athiest,

I’m an athiest 2. I been looking for the nearest athiest church so I can practiss my relijon, but I can’t fine it in the phone book. So I’d be great full if you coul tell me where do you go to prey to nobody? Thanx for you’re cornside ration.

You’re fallow athiest,

Lourdice Myshepard

Lourdice:

No-god is everywhere. So you don’t need a church to practice your religion. Just pick whatever time and place you choose, and fall on your knees. I promise you, no lord will hear your prayers. Bless you, my daughter, for you have sneezed.

Dr Athiest,

I’m riting to you acause I spect that yawl will know this. It was the Final Joepardy answer tother day, but my dang TV went dead during the thinking music afor Alec’s had a chanct to come back and tell us what the question was. The catigory was The Dammed and the answer was: When he died, the athiest went to this place. ROFLMAO! Got yawl, dint I?

Ha,

Ben Gleck

Ben:

I believe the answer is “Kentucky.” Although it might be “the dentist’s office.”

[Note: If you have a question for Dear Athiest, please check your spelling, punctuation, and grammar (if she’s still alive). Sorry, but mail received with no errors cannot be printed. Letters must be between 1 and 1,000,000 words long; pictures count as 1,000 words, and may be tampered with for space. All letters published become the exclusive property of the delete button.]

[Note: Most of the following post was written in March 2007. I lifted the original verbatim, because I think atheists are sometimes way too serious. However, I couldn’t resist adding a new, improved image, now with 300% more schlong!]

Once in a while, even the most dedicated of us get tired of separating church and state. That’s when Jefferson would pull out his fiddle, or make a trip down to his wine cellar. Me, I go trolling through the Internet to find mindless time-wasters.

So, okay, if you pull the elephant’s back legs down slowly, first to the right and then to the left, you can fashion a decent tail; to form two distinct flukes, put a little indent in the middle. Then stretch the front legs slowly, one at a time to turn them into flippers. If you press down on the critter’s back, not too far behind its head, and then do the same around its rear end, you’ll be left with a bump on its spine that you can shape into a fin.

Thus, your elephant becomes a sea mammal.

You can perform this little exercise in unintelligent design by playing a kids’ “game” called Animal Warp at ChristianAnswers.net. Besides the elephant, you can try your hand improving a toucan, a rhino, a monkey, and various other species. What, exactly, this activity has to do with Christianity is sneakily withheld during the game. Just a few clicks away, though, you can learn all kinds of wondrous misinformation about nature, creationist propaganda written in the kind of simple language that any Christian — child OR adult — can understand. The most important lesson, of course, is:

In the beginning God created everything perfect …

If you’re an inventive and shameless parent, you can use “Animal Warp” to show your offspring what a shitmess they could make out of god’s allegedly perfect creations. When they push and pull the poor animal’s picture, they’re probably gonna wind up with some unidentifiable goo, looking like a chocolate Easter beast that has melted way beyond recognition. Why? Because your kids don’t have a really great plan like the big guy’s.

One thing he probably didn’t anticipate, however, was sea debris: floating condoms, cigarette butts, plastic straws, indestructible gum, pages ripped out of bibles, and, of course, an oil slick the size of … what is it up to today? … Jupiter. Which is why I went to the bottom of the Elephorpoise’s trunk and pulled on both ends until it looked like a vacuum cleaner attachment.

Why didn’t god think of that one, huh?

I hate to brag, but I also created a new species: the Huge-Penised Flying Devil Monkey, so named because it looks like a flying devil monkey with an unusually large schmeckel. Actually, the “penis” is really just the creature’s appendix. (Proof: The individual shown is a female.)

I don’t remember how I was able to copy my critters. It must not have been too hard to do, because unlike other creator gods, I never work in mysterious ways. (In fact, every time I try to play dice with the universe, I lose big-time.) If any reader can figure out how to save the images made with “Animal Warp,” please leave a comment telling the rest of us what steps we need to follow. Assuming that it is possible, somehow, to memorialize your work, feel free to send me your jpegs, and I’ll add them to this post. Otherwise, why not just describe what you’ve made? (But don’t forget to ask Adam to name it.)

In a silly attempt to deflect all the talk about sexual abuse of children by priestly employees of the Vatican, Pope Benny has decided to revive that old Shroud of Turin nonsense. Of course the city’s Archbishop, Cardinal Severino Poletto, is thrilled to go along with the papal plug. Just think of all those discouraged Roman Catholics worldwide, who are surely eager to have their faith reaffirmed by seeing — in person — an imprint of Our Lord himself.

You could almost hear the tourism coins going kachinginus vobiscum in Poletto’s head, as he intoned:

We can’t say with mathematical certainty that it is authentic; it’s up to scientists to do that. But it remains a great enigma.

Not to me. Although the imprint on that piece of cloth doesn’t look anything like Jesus, the face does seem familiar somehow. Whoever he is, I’m assuming that he’ll be able to feed the multitude.

We oh-so-rational atheists are not supposed to just spout off about any old thing, particularly ideas for which we lack evidence. Still, most of us, if we’re being completely truthful, have to acknowledge that we do harbor a few beliefs that might not withstand scientific scrutiny.

A few years back, I wrote a confessional post in which I admitted to some notions that fall into the above category. I’m not going to repeat the items here – most of them were too dull to have been written even once – but I’ll include the first one to show the kind of thing I mean:

Despite all my protestations of tolerance, I really do, deep down, think that anyone who believes in a god is a moron.

Anyway, here are some more unverifiable beliefs by which I live my life:

(1) There’s never anything on TV so important to watch that it’s worth cancelling or postponing any other activity.

(2) People who call you by name at the end of every sentence are always trying to sell you something.